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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28270869">take from me (i'll give you everything)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustardleaf/pseuds/mustardleaf'>mustardleaf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Begging, Breathplay, Choking, Emotional Sex, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Kuroo is whipped, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Kozume Kenma, Praise Kink, Smut, Top Kuroo Tetsurou, am i projecting, but it's the opposite of what you're thinking probably, kenma is so mf powerful, welp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:29:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28270869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustardleaf/pseuds/mustardleaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo knows Kenma is commanding in bed regardless of the position they’re in – less so in the direct, verbal sense but rather, in the way that he holds himself. </p><p>In the merciless intensity of his eyes, molten and silently demanding; in the latent, contained power thrumming through his lithe frame; in the quiet, coiled kind of strength that makes Kuroo anticipate his pounce, only to find himself already clasped in his claws. In the way that Kenma knows exactly what he wants and how he wants it, knowing with terrifying certainty that Kuroo will oblige – even beg for – his every whim. </p><p>Kuroo wants to be overtaken completely. He wants more, wants to be inexplicably, infinitesimally closer – wants to be <em>devoured</em>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji &amp; Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>217</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>take from me (i'll give you everything)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Wanted to challenge (read: indulge) myself by writing something a bit more intense and sensual. No, I am definitely not projecting.</p><p>Hope you enjoy! ^.^</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kuroo reaches over to refill Kenma’s empty glass. He had invited Kenma over for a Friday night date at his place and he had gone all out in the kitchen for it, preparing a mixed sashimi platter and yakitori (or rather, his best attempt at it). Kenma had shown up at his door swaddled in a long coat and scarf with small flecks of snow clinging to his loosely tied half-dyed hair – effortlessly tousled and beautiful as always. He had stepped in and pressed a sweet peck on Kuroo’s lips while cradling a bottle of Kuroo’s favorite cabernet sauvignon. Shedding his winter layers, he had drifted eagerly to the kitchen at the smell of food.</p><p>They’re lounging on the couch now, Kenma’s legs slung across Kuroo’s lap and a wine glass clasped in each of their hands. The television is broadcasting a nature channel episode on South American rain forests (“Nerd,” Kenma had said, not admitting that it was endearing) but the volume is low and neither of them are paying attention. The wine bottle is empty, their stomachs warm and full, head pleasantly fuzzy.</p><p>Kuroo lifts his wine glass and tips it back, humming at the taste. And Kenma stares a little longer than usual. Kuroo is beautiful, which he’s always known, but he never gets tired of looking at his boyfriend – the sharp angles of his defined features that contrast with the endless gentleness in his hazel eyes and the soft uptilt of his lips, the jut of his Adam’s apple that bobs as he empties his glass, the unruly raven locks that sweep across his forehead. His cheekbones are painted a faint red as the scarlet ibis on the television screen reflects onto his skin.</p><p>Kenma tips his glass back and empties it, setting it down before shuffling closer to his boyfriend. Kuroo automatically threads his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face so he that he can turn slightly to press a soft kiss against Kenma’s forehead, affectionate and tender. </p><p>Beneath his snark, witty comebacks, and biting sarcasm, Kuroo has always been painfully gentle – considerate to a fault. Even in bed, Kenma is always the one urging Kuroo to give him more, whispering, <em>it’s okay, I can take it</em> – and Kuroo always obliges, albeit with meticulous care.</p><p>Kenma turns to face Kuroo fully, who looks down at him. The right half of Kuroo’s face is faintly painted by the colors on the television, a canvas of unblended brush strokes that Kenma wants to touch. So he does, fingers reaching out to brush against his cheekbone. Kuroo tilts his head into his palm, eyes soft and dark eyelashes fluttering as Kenma leans in. Their lips meet, tender and slow, remnants of red wine clinging to their breaths. </p><p>Kenma slings himself over to straddle Kuroo’s hips, gently carding his fingers through ink black hair. Kuroo sighs, hands moving to wrap around Kenma’s waist, pressing close. They kiss languidly as the fuzz of the alcohol sweeps through their veins – they have all the time in the world.</p><p>They part slightly, a hairsbreadth of distance between them. “When is Koutaro coming home?” Kenma asks. </p><p>“He’s not coming back tonight,” Kuroo replies, a smirk ghosting across his lips. “Traveling for a game.” </p><p>“Mmm,” Kenma hums thoughtfully. And leans in again.</p><p>“Wait,” Kuroo says quietly. Kenma tilts his head. “I almost forgot. I bought some apple pie earlier today in case you wanted some after dinner.”</p><p>Kenma pauses, thinking. Apple pie will always make him reconsider. He purses his lips, then shakes his head and gazes down at Kuroo with a lazy sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “It can wait,” he says, lips curving up. “I want something else for dessert.”</p><p>Kuroo bites his lip, then rolls his eyes, fighting back an exasperated smile as he scoffs, “You’re never this cheesy.” </p><p>“Blame the wine.” </p><p>They meet halfway again, the alcohol settling comfortably in their system and adding an undertone of charged urgency to the situation. Kuroo loosens Kenma’s hair out of its hair-tie and lets it curtain both their faces, shrouding their vision in a more intimate darkness. He kisses him deep and slow, flicking his tongue in between Kenma’s parted lips and wrapping his arms tighter around his waist, drawing him closer. He licks at the bitter aftertaste of the wine clinging to his tongue and feels Kenma’s hands slide down his neck to settle on his shoulders.</p><p>Kenma pulls back, breathing slightly heavier, before dipping his head into the curve of Kuroo’s neck and attaching his lips there. Kuroo’s eyes snap open with a gasp – he’s sensitive there to begin with and the wine seems to amplify his sensations by twofold. Encouraged by his reaction, Kenma is relentless, mouthing and sucking and nipping at the smooth column of his neck while Kuroo begins to gasp underneath him. </p><p>“Jesus, Kenma. I – <em>ah!</em> –” Kenma cuts him off with a slow roll of his hips, the friction welcome yet surprising – again, his sensitivity magnified by alcohol – and he feels Kenma smirk into the skin of his neck. </p><p>In the early stages of their relationship, Kuroo had always been the one initiating physical touch and displays of affection. But after they grew increasingly comfortable with each other, after going through all the memorable awkwardness that came with discovering each other’s bodies – being each other’s firsts – Kenma became more direct, assertive, and confident in what he wanted, pulling Kuroo along for the ride. The change was a welcome one and Kenma was full of surprises, daring and demanding and sharp-tongued – <em>just like he is with his video games</em>, Kuroo remembers thinking. </p><p>He’s found that rather than giving, he enjoys the feeling of Kenma <em>taking from</em> him. Placing his wholehearted trust in Kenma’s palm, vulnerable and open, knowing that he’ll be treated with the utmost care.</p><p>So he tugs him closer, closer, closer – the arm wrapped around Kenma’s waist pressing downward, the increase in friction drawing out a gasp from both of them. He slips Kenma’s loose sweater off of his pale shoulder and presses his lips just beneath his delicate collarbones. <em>Take from me</em>, he presses the words into Kenma’s skin. <em>I’ll give you everything.</em></p><p>As if understanding, Kenma shivers above him and pulls away slightly. His pupils are dilated, ringed with the gold of his irises, and Kuroo is absentmindedly reminded of a solar eclipse – <em>Nerd</em>, he can hear Kenma say fondly in his head.</p><p>“Bedroom,” Kenma breathes out, low and quiet and weighted, before lifting himself off of Kuroo and tugging at his hand.</p><p>Kuroo can’t help the way heat races down to his hips and lets himself be pulled up. He wraps himself around Kenma again, sealing their lips together as they stumble blindly toward the bedroom. They leave a trail of clothes behind them, pulling off layers impatiently. Kenma bumps into the doorframe and lets out a grunt at the impact. They struggle with their belts, Kuroo trips ungracefully as he tries to extract his legs from his dress pants, and Kenma laughs against his lips as they shed their underwear. Kuroo feels himself being pushed, warm hands against his bare chest, and then feels the softness of the mattress against his back. Kenma crawls on top of him and their eyes drag together – </p><p>Kuroo shivers. Kenma’s gaze is heavy, sharp, deadly, his smooth movements cat-like and predatory. Kuroo hears himself audibly swallow, wanting, <em>wanting</em> – pinned by Kenma’s golden irises, a sense of sweet powerlessness jolting through his veins and rushing toward his hips.</p><p>Kuroo’s speaking before he even knows what he’s saying, “Come up here.” He grasps Kenma’s thighs and tugs him lightly upwards, meets those feline eyes head-on and drawls, “Come here and fuck my mouth while I prep you.” </p><p>He feels Kenma’s breath hitch – so quiet that he almost misses it – the barest hint of a shiver trembling underneath his hand, his bottom lip immediately catching between his teeth. Kuroo smirks and reaches over to fiddle with the bottle of lube in his bedside drawer. He uncaps it and coats his fingers thoroughly. And then Kenma plants his knees into the mattress, bracketing Kuroo’s head. Kuroo’s long, tan arms hook under his legs, the fingers of his dry hand digging into the meat of Kenma’s thigh to hold him there. </p><p>Kenma gazes down at him, eyes molten, golden irises darkening to a rich amber, and Kuroo wets his lips in anticipation. Kenma tangles his fingers into the unruly black hair, tugging his head back slightly before guiding his length to press against Kuroo’s parted lips. He presses in slowly, whining at the sensation when Kuroo greedily laves his tongue around him. Kuroo grasps his ass with his dry hand, urging and pushing Kenma’s hips forward. When it comes to Kenma’s pleasure, he’s willing to do anything, hungry to fulfill expectations, eager to exceed them. He relaxes his muscles, practiced and familiar, as Kenma hits the back of his throat, burying himself completely.</p><p>“<em>Shit</em>,” he hears Kenma swear under his breath, the word punching out from his lungs. The fingers in his hair tighten, pulling at the roots, and Kuroo moans around Kenma’s length, mouth full and helpless. Kenma has one hand fisted into ink black hair while the other grips the edge of the headboard, arm stiff as he supports himself. Kuroo groans at the sight, fighting to keep his eyes open to drink in the view of Kenma arching into his mouth – hip bones jutting against the skin of his abdomen, head lolling forward, soft hair curtaining his face as his eyes haze over. Kenma pulls his hips back and then pushes in again, watching intently, gaze fixated on Kuroo’s red lips as they stretch to accommodate him. </p><p>He sets an <em>achingly</em> slow pace. He gazes at Kuroo lazily, a ghost of smirk curving against his pretty lips, half-lidded eyes challenging him to complain knowing all Kuroo can do is moan around him. Kuroo takes the opportunity to grab a handful of Kenma’s ass, spreading him wide, and breaches his entrance with one lubed finger. </p><p>Kenma’s hips jolt forward and a high-pitched gasp tears itself from his throat – the simultaneous sensations of Kuroo’s mouth around him and the finger slowly thrusting into him coaxing out a full-body shudder. The angle is perfect – too perfect – as Kuroo thrusts in, deep to the knuckle. It’s tormenting, torturous, delicious – Kenma can’t decide if he wants to rock forward into Kuroo’s mouth more or press down onto his finger. </p><p>His grip on Kuroo’s hair becomes borderline painful as one finger becomes two and two becomes three. Kuroo moans around him again, and the vibrations send pleasure racing to the base of his spine. The initial discomfort of the stretch is muted by the feeling of Kuroo laving around him, the <em>sight</em> of the taller man underneath him – eyes teary, mouth full, and saliva leaking out the corner of his parted lips. Then, Kuroo curls his fingers towards him –</p><p>“<em>Ngh!</em>” Kenma can’t hold back the strangled sound he makes as Kuroo pinpoints his prostate, aim deadly and unyielding. The strength to continue moving his hips leaves him completely. He clenches his thighs together, trembling knees pressed into the cream-colored sheets below. His spine curls forward as Kuroo fingers him deep and tongues at his length – having no choice but to take what Kuroo gives him. He shudders, hips jolting and pleasure building fast – too fast – </p><p>“I’m ready,” he gasps desperately. “Tetsu, I’m ready.” Kuroo withdraws his fingers and Kenma pulls out of his mouth with a wet pop. He pauses for a moment, dragging the hand tangled in his black hair downwards to thumb at his lips, red and shining with saliva. </p><p>“How do you want me, baby?” Kuroo asks quietly, lips moving against Kenma’s finger.</p><p>Kenma thinks for a moment. Usually, he loves when Kuroo takes charge and fucks him into the mattress, sensual and slow and unforgiving. But he can’t get this image of Kuroo out of his head – helpless and ruined beneath him, hair twisted in Kenma’s fingers, spit leaking out of his mouth. His gut tugs with a carnal desire to wreck him further and see how much Kuroo can take – see how much he <em>begs</em> for. </p><p>Kenma meets his eyes then, gaze sharpened with a lethal amount of certainty. “Just like this,” he breathes out, heat curling over the husk of his voice. Kuroo swallows, heat racing downward. He becomes aware of how painfully hard he is, leaking and neglected. He reaches over, digs around to find a condom and tears it open with his teeth. He rolls it on himself and hisses at the touch while Kenma shuffles backward to straddle his hips. Kenma positions himself, supporting his weight with one hand pressed against Kuroo’s tanned chest. Then he locks their gazes together – and slowly sinks down. </p><p>“Oh, <em>fuck</em>,” Kuroo groans, eyes rolling back and hands scrambling to find purchase at the jut of Kenma’s hips, fingers indenting into the smooth skin. Kenma’s moaning softly above him, lowering himself gradually until he’s fully seated. And then he holds himself there, adjusting to the stretch as Kuroo’s length reaches deep within him. Kenma is impossibly tight and incredibly warm, and Kuroo moans helplessly as Kenma begins to move, the lean muscles lining his pale thighs flexing as he rides him – slow and sensual.</p><p>Kuroo knows Kenma is commanding in bed regardless of the position they’re in – less so in the direct, verbal sense but rather, in the way that he holds himself. In the merciless intensity of his eyes, molten and silently demanding; in the latent, contained power thrumming through his lithe frame; in the quiet, coiled kind of strength that makes Kuroo anticipate his pounce, only to find himself already clasped in his claws. In the way that Kenma knows exactly what he wants and how he wants it, knowing with terrifying certainty that Kuroo will oblige – even beg for – his every whim. </p><p>Kuroo’s gasping, unable to hold back the moan ripping from his throat. Kenma is beautiful, deadly, sinful on top of him, setting his own pace and riding him to oblivion. He has a hand wrapped around his length, pleasuring himself as his other hand presses into Kuroo’s chest for balance. His face is pinched erotically, back arched and jaw slack with pleasure, delicate features intensely expressive. Kuroo wants to be overtaken completely. He wants more, wants to be inexplicably, infinitesimally closer – wants to be <em>devoured.</em></p><p>Kuroo can’t explain what drives him to do it – maybe it’s the wine loosening him more than usual – but a pull comes from deep within his gut, and a desire twisted into the meek crevices of his mind finally unfurls itself. He drags the hand against his chest upwards and closes Kenma’s fingers around his own throat, pressing down lightly to signal what he wants.</p><p>Kenma, hazy-eyed with pleasure, slows his motions to look at him carefully. “Are you sure?” He asks, quiet voice firm.</p><p>“Yes.” Kuroo breathes out immediately. </p><p>“Safe word?” Kenma asks, although they both know the answer.</p><p>“Calico.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>And then Kenma begins to choke him, pressing down slowly and cutting off his air. His head starts to dizzy and his sensitivity spikes, further amplifying all sensations. His skin tingles, thrumming with electricity, and his senses are wholly consumed by Kenma – hot and tight around his length, the fingers grasping his throat, the trembling thighs locked around his shuddering hips. Everything Kenma, who is currently watching him with an intensity unparalleled to before, a raw kind of hunger laid bare and flaring across his irises, making Kuroo’s hips jolt.</p><p>The hand on his throat releases slowly and Kuroo inhales deeply, head clearing and lungs filling. And then Kenma relentlessly presses his hand back down again, wrenching out a strangled moan from Kuroo – low and long and ruined. Kenma hisses out a curse at the sound and drinks in the sight of Kuroo beneath him. He’s an absolute mess – his black hair is pushed out of his face in a haphazard halo, his lips parted erotically, the usual intensity and snark in his eyes gauzy and hazed over.</p><p>Kuroo can’t get enough. The wine warms his veins and the lack of oxygen blurs his thoughts while sharpening sensations. He’s barely conscious of the sounds coming from his throat, loud and guttural and shameless. Of course, he loves taking Kenma apart slowly underneath him and watching him writhe caged between his arms, but this – this sheer <em>power</em> that Kenma has over him as well as the novelty of it – he wants to lose himself in it, wants to abandon his sanity and drown willingly.</p><p>Kenma leans down, his fingers slipping away from Kuroo’s throat and his soft dyed hair engulfing both their faces. The gold flecks in his eyes are almost luminescent up close, stark against the black pupils blown wide. Kuroo presses Kenma’s hips down with one strong arm anchored to his waist. His hips buck up as Kenma pulls his hair to wrench his head to the side and latches onto his throat, moaning right into his ear. </p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Kuroo’s groaning, voice garbled. “Oh fuck, yes.” It’s so much, almost <em>too</em> much – Kuroo plants his heels into the mattress and bucks upwards to meet at every thrust as Kenma nips and sucks purple bruises into his skin. He reaches down to grasp Kenma’s length and stroke him fast between the press of their bodies. Kenma muffles a high-pitched moan by biting down onto the juncture of his neck and shoulders. Kuroo answers in kind, smothering his responding groan by clamping his teeth onto Kenma’s delicate shoulder, eyes rolling back at the sharpness of teeth against his tender skin. </p><p>Kenma fists the sheets next to Kuroo’s head with one hand, knuckles white and fingers flexing. He untangles his other hand from Kuroo’s hair and snakes it down his face to press his thumb against his mouth, catching the gasps that leave Kuroo’s parted lips. When Kenma takes his earlobe into his mouth, the jolting shock of sensitivity makes Kuroo’s jaw slacken with a gasp and Kenma takes the opportunity to slip his thumb between his lips. Kuroo laves over his finger hungrily, making a mess as spit leaks out of his mouth. He vaguely registers Kenma pulling back slightly to gaze at him; he can’t even imagine how utterly wrecked he looks right now and can’t bring himself to care. </p><p>Kenma forces them back to a slow, agonizing pace, marveling at the sight beneath him, and grinds his hips down impossibly deeper as he leans in to brush his lips against Kuroo’s ear. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s not – but something, a flame of deep-seated carnal hunger licks at his gut, urging him to push Kuroo further, stretch the limits of what he can take –</p><p>“You look so good like this,” he whispers praises in Kuroo’s ear as he slips his finger out of his mouth and drags his hand downward to wrap around his throat again. “So good for me. You’re doing so well.” </p><p>Kuroo lets out a noise that sounds like he’s crying and moaning at the same time – strangled, high-pitched, and desperate. “<em>Please</em>.” </p><p>Kenma understands and increases pressure on the hand around Kuroo’s throat, feeling his throat bob as he swallows down a gasp. Kuroo pulls at Kenma’s length feverishly, both of them rapidly losing control and falling out of rhythm. His hips are bucking up, the angle merciless – “<em>Fuck</em>, right there” – as Kenma desperately grinds down in tandem. Kuroo’s fingers dig into Kenma’s hips, bruising and tight in their grip, fingernails forming crescent-moon indentations. Their lips meet in a gasping kiss, swallowing each other’s moans and – </p><p>“I’m gonna come,” Kuroo’s shuddering, the arm around Kenma’s waist trembling, his hand spasming against Kenma’s length. He begs again, voice breaking, “Let me come, baby. <em>Please.</em>”</p><p>Kenma fights against the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, pleasure bursting against his eyelids. He doesn’t want to miss sight of Kuroo begging shamelessly, cheeks red, face contorted, and saliva trailing down his jawline. It’s enough for Kenma to choke out one word –</p><p>“Come.”</p><p>– before both of them wrench over the edge, their hips stuttering as Kuroo spills deep and Kenma spurts onto his stomach. They stay there, wrapped around each other as they shudder through their climax together, sporadic tremors wracking their bodies. A thin sheen of sweat plasters Kenma’s hair to his face and Kuroo brushes it back with a trembling hand, pulling down at his neck to press a kiss against his forehead. </p><p>“Jesus,” Kuroo breathes quietly, voice wavering and lungs stuttering. He closes his eyes and pushes his sweaty hair out of his face. “I think that’s the hardest I’ve come in a while.”</p><p>Kenma huffs out a weak laugh. “Me too.” His thighs, still locked around Kuroo’s hips, are visibly shaking with the strain. He eyes Kuroo curiously, voice lowering. “You’re so sexy when you beg, Tetsu.”</p><p>Kuroo has the decency to blush this time. “It’s the wine,” he says weakly.</p><p>Kenma hums thoughtfully. “Whatever you say.”</p><p>Kuroo just smiles, one of those soft-eyed ones reserved just for Kenma. He leans up to peck him lightly on the lips. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he whispers.</p><p>They untangle from each other, groaning from oversensitivity. Kenma is already getting sleepy, so Kuroo lays him down gently and cleans him up with a towel before wiping off the mess on his own stomach. He lies down next to him and tugs Kenma close. He pulls the comforter over their naked bodies and smiles when Kenma hums contentedly, shuffling closer into Kuroo’s body heat. He wraps an arm around Kenma’s waist and presses tender kisses into his shoulder, his neck, his hair.</p><p>“Goodnight baby,” he whispers.</p><p>“G’night Tetsu,” he hears Kenma mumble, already half-asleep.</p><p>(Unbeknownst to them, Kuroo’s phone buzzes from its neglected place on the living room couch. </p><p>
  <em>10 unread messages</em><br/>
<strong>[From: bokubro]</strong><br/>
<em>10:36 PM</em><br/>
<em>hope ur enjoying ur date night bro!</em><br/>
<em>tell kenma i said hi!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>11:02 PM</em><br/>
<em>also lmk when i can come back</em><br/>
<em>… if* i can come back</em>
</p><p>
  <em>12:27 AM</em><br/>
<em>i will take that as a no</em><br/>
<em>i thought this would happen cause kenma told me he was bringing that wine you like</em><br/>
<em>that wine is dangerous man</em><br/>
<em>keiji calls it demon juice</em><br/>
<em>anyways i’m sleeping over at keiji’s hehe</em><br/>
<em>sleep well bro &lt;3 </em>
</p><p>Bokuto was, in fact, <em>not</em> traveling for a game, but Kenma didn’t have to know that.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, I admit that I wanted to ruin Kuroo a bit. Defying stereotypes of top/bottom dom/sub power dynamics is definitely a huge weakness of mine. :3 </p><p>Thanks so much for reading! As always, comments are always appreciated. &lt;3 </p><p>Follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/mustard_leaf_">Twitter</a> for low quality content.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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